


Sugar-Sweet

by RetroactiveCon



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21762166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: Hartley stares, affronted, at the garish pink monstrosity that’s occupying his favorite haunt. Two months he’s too busy to visit the Rainbow Raider, and suddenly it becomes a sweets shop?
Relationships: Barry Allen/Hartley Rathaway
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	Sugar-Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Superhero Girls' itty bitty Barry. I haven't watched the show, but I've seen screenshots on Tumblr, and he's just the cutest ever. I couldn't read the logo for where he worked, though, so I used Burke & Bailey's from the Odd Thomas series since it also has cute pink uniforms.

Hartley stares, affronted, at the garish pink monstrosity that’s occupying his favorite haunt. Two months he’s too busy to visit the Rainbow Raider, and suddenly it becomes a sweets shop? 

“Oh!” 

Someone bumps into Hartley’s shoulder. He and the stranger whirl to catch each other at the same time, and he finds himself eye to eye with a pretty boy in a pink Burke & Bailey’s uniform. The boy’s breath catches in his throat, which is cute. For a split-second, Hartley is too busy studying the careless spread of freckles across his nose to remember that they’re clutching each other’s shoulders. Once he does, he recoils like he’s been burned. 

“I’m sorry,” the boy babbles. His name badge says ‘Barry.’ “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Hartley ought to wave aside his apology and admit that it was his fault. Instead, he gestures at the newly-erected Burke & Bailey’s and demands, “What happened to the Rainbow Raider?” 

Barry’s eyes widen. “Oh! They closed a month ago. I’m sorry, you were…I’m sorry.” A faint blush dusts his cheeks. Unbidden, Hartley’s mind does its utmost to conjure up images of what he could do to intensify that blush. He dutifully ignores it. Yes, he was hoping for a meaningless hookup; that doesn’t mean he gets to flirt with some poor sweets-shop worker. 

“I should let you get to work,” he says. “I’ve probably made you late.”

“Oh, I was late anyway.” Barry brightens. “You could come in! This is kind of our quiet time, and there are cupcakes.” 

Hartley bites back a quiet, approving “Adorable.” Since he has nothing better to do, he trails the boy into the shop and stares, dumbfounded, at the row of neat pink-trimmed display cases where the bar used to be. 

“Is the pink theme supposed to be ironic?” 

“Huh?” Barry pokes his head out of the back room where he must have been clocking in. “Oh, no, Burke & Bailey’s is always pink.” 

Hartley wanders along the display cases. There are multi-tiered cakes with fondant or piped flowers, brightly-frosted cupcakes, and a freezer full of ice cream tubs. He shouldn’t eat any of it (no one will want him if he puts on weight, a point impressed on him by almost everyone he’s exchanged five words with) but Barry is watching him hopefully. “If I say ‘dealer’s choice,’ what does that get me?” 

Barry grins. “Well, I guess that depends. Do you have any allergies?” 

“To food? No.” Hartley laughs and admits, “Only to latex, which is unfortunate.” 

“Do you work in a lab?” Barry asks as he steps over to the cupcake case. “I think it would be so cool to work in a lab, and maybe one day I will, but right now I have to put myself through college, so…” He favors Hartley with another of his brilliant smiles. “Burke & Bailey’s.”

Hartley bites back a laugh. Not just adorable, but utterly oblivious. Far be it from him to let him in on the joke. “Thankfully, STAR Labs believes in only buying nitrile gloves, which has saved me many unpleasant surprises.” 

Barry pokes his head back over the top of the case to goggle at him. “You work at STAR Labs?” he asks. “Oh, that’s like my dream job! I’ve kept up with Harrison Wells’ research since I was a kid. What’s it like to work with him?” 

“Exhausting.” Hartley can’t remember the last time he had a full night’s sleep, much less a social life. “I’ve never been happier. What field would you go into?”

“Chemistry,” Barry replies without hesitation. “Hence the, y’know, baking. It’s all science in the kitchen.” He slides Hartley a cupcake frosted in an airy, delicate green. “Um, I figure you can’t go wrong with mint chocolate?” 

Hartley slides the cupcake along the counter until he reaches the register. Barry blushes when he asks if he’s allowed to tip. 

“Uh, no, no tips. No, I’m amply paid, and I’ll just shut up now.” He hands Hartley his receipt; then, to Hartley’s dismay, he settles his chin on his hands and watches attentively. 

“You’re going to watch me eat?” He glances over his shoulder, hoping someone else might step to the register. Save him and Barry, the shop is empty. 

“Not if it makes you self-conscious,” Barry says, “but I’m kinda curious to see what you think.” 

Slowly, Hartley breaks off a piece of cupcake and brings it to his lips. It’s been so long since he had sweets that he expects not to notice flavors beyond a cloying sugary taste. Certainly he doesn’t anticipate the subtle, clean notes of mint and bitter bite of dark chocolate. The noise of shock he makes might best be described as a moan. Barry beams. “Good?”

“I thought it wouldn’t have a flavor other than ‘sweet,’” Hartley admits. Half-ashamed of himself, he breaks off another piece and eats. 

“That’s a point of Burke & Bailey’s pride.” Barry straightens up and props his hip against the counter, projecting the requisite pride. It looks good on him, Hartley thinks, and promptly turns his mind back to the cupcake. “Natural flavors, as few added sweeteners as possible.” 

To himself, Hartley thinks that he’s less likely to return for the sweets than for Barry. Saying so aloud would, of course, be the height of impropriety, so he changes the subject. “Are you majoring in chemistry at school?”

Barry nods. “And minoring in criminal justice. My best friend has wanted to be a police officer since we were, like, five, and she kinda dragged me along with her. But, y’know, as a CSI, because science.” He gestures at one of the faux-marble-topped tables and invites, “We could sit down. Like I said, not a busy time.” 

Hartley steers him over to a booth in the corner that, while no longer decorated in subdued red-and-black tones, is familiar. Barry sits down opposite him, props his elbow on the table, and settles his chin on his hand. In other contexts, the openly inquisitive stare he fixes on Hartley would be an all-too-welcome invitation. “So what do you do at STAR Labs?” 

“A little of everything.” Hartley has worked alongside Harrison Wells for five years, and in that time he’s been structural and electrical engineer, theoretical physicist, and reluctant team leader. “I like physics, working with light and sound waves, but I fill in wherever I’m needed.”

“How long have you worked there?”

Hartley breaks off another bite of cupcake. “Five years. Harrison Wells hired me out of college, contingent on my entering a master’s or PhD program once the accelerator is up and running. Trying to achieve both simultaneously would be difficult, even for me.”

“Oh.” Barry’s cheeks turn as pink as his apron. When Hartley raises an eyebrow, he murmurs, “I guess I thought you were younger.”

“I graduated early.” At STAR Labs, among competitors, Hartley would be more willing to boast. With Barry, who’s eagerly hanging on his every word, he sees no need. 

“Oh.” He nods. “I might have been able to do that, too, but I’m distractible with everything except science, and my schoolwork suffered for it. I’m on a fast track through college, though, so I’m hoping to make up some time. And, y’know, not have student loans for decades.”

Hartley forces a dark chuckle to show he understands. This darling boy doesn’t need to know the details, but he’s unashamed to admit, “I know the feeling.” 

The door opens. Barry bolts to his feet and hurries back to the counter with a cry of, “Lisa, hi! If you’re here, the competition must have gone well?” 

Hartley finishes his cupcake in a few bites and hurries out the door. Behind him, Barry and Lisa, a tall woman with golden-brown curls, are discussing ice skating. He acknowledges this mostly to remind himself that Barry wasn’t particularly interested in him; he was simply establishing a rapport so that Hartley might return. 

Weak as he is, he may do precisely that.

***

The next time Hartley ventures to Burke & Bailey’s, it’s been an exhausting day. He pays little attention to where his feet take him, and only upon glimpsing the garish pink awning does he realize he walked this way hoping for a drink. Unfortunately, that’s no longer an option at this particular location. He’s about to turn around and head home in despair when he glimpses a familiar face behind the counter.

“We’re about to close,” Barry greets him when he steps through the door. As soon as he sees Hartley, his eyes widen. “Oh, it’s you, hi! You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“I haven’t,” Hartley mumbles. He sinks down into the nearest chair and rests his head in his hands. “I’ll be out of your way soon enough, I just need a rest before I can walk home.”

He’s not aware of Barry’s approach until the chair opposite his squeaks against the tile. When he glances up, Barry has a cupcake in each hand. 

“I’ll have to throw them out after closing anyway.” He nudges a chocolate cupcake toward Hartley and keeps a red-frosted one for himself. “You look like you need it.” 

Rather than chocolate mint, this one is nutty—peanut butter and hazelnut, Hartley decides. He makes a soft, appreciative noise and mumbles, “Thank you,” around his first mouthful. 

Barry unwraps his cupcake, breaks off the bottom portion, and eats it first. “So STAR Labs wore you out?” he ventures. 

Hartley nods. He’s far too tired to explain the week he’s had, in which blueprint mishaps followed experimental errors and an all-day blackout. Thankfully, Barry seems to understand, because he doesn’t press for details. 

“Uh, I don’t have a car, or I’d offer to drive you. How close do you live? Because I kinda wanna walk with you, you know, so that you don’t fall asleep on the sidewalk or something.”

It’s such an adorably, bizarrely chivalrous offer that Hartley manages a weary laugh. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but I’d feel terrible if something happened.” Barry nibbles on the top of his cupcake. In the process, he gets red frosting on the upturned tip of his nose. Without thinking, Hartley reaches out to wipe it away. Barry flushes up a remarkably pretty pink and murmurs, “Thanks.”

They finish up their cupcakes in silence. Hartley prepares to walk home; Barry gets to his feet and hurries into the back room. Before Hartley can muster the strength to stand, he returns, beaming. 

“Okay, everything is off that should be off,” he pronounces. “So come on, where do you live?”

Hartley is so exhausted that it takes him several seconds for Barry’s eager words to process. He gapes up at him, slack-jawed, until he registers the question. “Oh, no. I don’t need…”

“You do.” Barry holds out a hand. Slowly, Hartley clasps it. His skin is soft and soothingly, radiantly warm, and the last of Hartley’s strength evaporates. He’s only half aware of mumbling his address; the next thing he knows, he’s on his feet, drifting along beside Barry. The door swings shut behind them and Barry turns to lock it. He tucks the key into his pocket, turns, and offers Hartley his arm. “Come on.”

Hartley slips his hand into the proffered crook of Barry’s arm. His little pink uniform top leaves his arms bare; his skin is warm and firm, and when he moves, Hartley can feel the play of muscles under his hand. Unthinkingly, he steps closer to Barry’s side. 

“I never got your name,” Barry says as they meander past a street light. 

“Hartley.” Even exhausted, he’s too careful to reveal his last name. He doubts this darling boy would do anything nefarious with the information, but he’s in no mood to deal with the mingled pity and disgust he often receives when people realize he’s the Rathaways’ disgraced heir. 

“Hartley,” Barry mimics instantly. It’s not the slow, deliberate cadence of someone testing his name to see if they like it; it’s clearly to commit it to memory. For the space of one sleep-slowed blink, Hartley thinks of Jerrie’s cheerful echolalia. “Uh, I’m Barry. But you already knew that.” He casts a glance at his name badge. 

“Adorable.” It’s far too familiar for the few interactions they’ve had, but Hartley doesn’t think about that until he’s already spoken. To his surprise, Barry turns a bright, pretty pink and says, 

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” 

“A pretty boy like you? Yes, I imagine you do.” 

Barry’s blush darkens. Belatedly, Hartley realizes how rude that was. He’s halfway through a clumsy apology when Barry mumbles, “You think I’m pretty?”

Unsure why he’s asking, Hartley chooses the safest answer. “If that makes you uncomfortable, we can pretend I didn’t say anything. I’m sleep-deprived enough to compliment a lamppost if I mistook it for a person.”

“Uh, no, I don’t mind.” Barry rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. His blush highlights his freckles; Hartley entertains fleeting notions of kissing them. He chases these thoughts away with a shake of his head. He doesn’t fall for straight boys; that’s a lesson he doesn’t need to learn twice. As engrossed in his thoughts as he is, he almost misses Barry’s quiet, “You’re cute enough that you can call me whatever you want.” 

Not straight, then. Hartley opens his mouth to flirt back when he remembers precisely how long he’s gone without sleep. He’s not nearly lucky enough for this to be anything but a dream. As discreetly as he can, he brings his free hand to his neck and pinches the skin behind his ear. There’s pain, albeit somewhat dull pain. He’s not dreaming. “Are you flirting with me?” 

“You’re cute,” Barry replies. “And I don’t usually do this so I’m bad at flirting but I’m trying to, yeah.” 

Hartley chuckles. “Tip for the future, don’t wait until someone is out of their head with sleep deprivation to flirt.” 

“Oh!” Barry’s eyes widen. “I’m so sorry, this is like taking advantage, isn’t it? Uh, forget I said anything. I’m so sorry.”

He’s too precious for Hartley to tease him. “It isn’t taking advantage, given that I’ve been flirting with you since we met. I just thought, when you started flirting back, that I was dreaming or hallucinating.”

“Not dreaming.” Barry draws him closer. Hartley resists the urge to lay his head against Barry’s shoulder. There’s a substantial difference between flirting and cuddling, and he refuses to cross that line tonight. “I was trying to flirt with you the first time you came in, but you seemed kinda closed off and I thought maybe you didn’t like me.” 

This isn’t the first time someone has interpreted Hartley’s reserve as dislike. It’s a pity, because if he dislikes someone, he isn’t shy about expressing it. “Oh, no. I liked you plenty, I just don’t flirt with people who can’t get away.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Barry rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ve had people flirt with me while I’m behind the counter. Most of the time I don’t mind, but the ones I mind are always the ones who don’t know when to stop. Speaking of stopping, isn’t this your building?” 

Hartley stares up at the façade of his apartment building. “It is,” he agrees. He makes no move to let go of Barry’s arm. “Thank you for walking me.”

Barry rocks side to side. Then, impulsively, he leans in and brushes warm lips against Hartley’s cheek. “I hope to see you later.” 

Hartley stands in front of the door long after Barry hurries away. He touches his fingertips to his cheek, where he can still feel the phantom warmth of Barry’s lips. That was unexpected—and oh-so-sweet.


End file.
